


Angel of Music

by theroverinadressinggown



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroverinadressinggown/pseuds/theroverinadressinggown
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki continued with ballet and never started ice skating. In his sophomore year, Yuuri’s usual ballet studio in Detroit has shut down. Overcome by depression and student debt, he sneaks into the shuttered opera. In the rafters, a silver-haired phantom awaits. (Loosely based off of The Phantom of the Opera.)





	

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri Katsuki is stressed out. Ballet won’t help him unwind this time.

Yuuri Katsuki was a college student, first and foremost. And that meant bills. As much as Yuuri loved ballet, he couldn’t afford the twenty dollar floor fees every day. Going to Detroit’s third-rate studio Sochi’s was the highlight of his week. Sochi’s was a converted warehouse tucked away behind many more abandoned storefronts. Panelled in faux wood and cheap mirrors, Sochi’s was a better retreat than the crowded and poorly maintained practice rooms Yuuri’s college possessed.

 

Yuuri gazed at the boarded up doors and lonely windows. Now, in the middle of finals week, Sochi’s officially closed. It was over. Whatever freedom he could have found in music and dance was gone.

 

Yuuri could head back to campus. Could join up with his best friend and roommate Pitchit Chulanont. Could forget the longing in his limbs.

 

Yuuri twisted on his heel and began walking, fighting the prickle of tears. It was all so stupid. After all of his classes and grades and bills, it was this that made him want to cry?

 

“It just means that I have twenty more dollars for tuition,” Yuuri said aloud. The December wind stole his words away. That was fine. He didn’t like them much anyway.

 

The weak sunlight glinted off snow and frozen puddles. Yuuri tread new prints on the sidewalk. For this moment, the world was beautiful. Yuuri didn’t want this kind of beauty. He wanted the beauty of simple chain turns executed with light feet, the feeling of a leaping bird, the chords of an organ…

 

...an organ like the one coming from the closed opera.

 

“Stravinsky,” Yuuri murmured as the musician crested the crescendo. Yuuri walked closer. The chords grew fainter. Frowning, Yuuri backtracked. The music was loudest from the side entrance. Had the organ player not played a rousing climax, Yuuri would have missed it completely. The air stilled. Silence.

 

Shaking his head, Yuuri turned away. Whatever was happening in there was none of his business.

 

Then, the first strains of “Waltz of the Snowflakes” from _The Nutcracker_.

 

“And a tuned piano on top of a tuned organ,” Yuuri whispered. “Curiouser and curiouser.”

 

Against his will, Yuuri closed his head, assumed fifth position and leapt. In the middle of street, it was as if the music transformed cement into wood. Midair, Yuuri spun. The wind caressed his hair and bit his cheeks. His sneakers skidded against ice. Gasping, Yuuri pinwheeled his arms and fell. His head crashed against the door, narrowly missing the knob. The door swung open with a crash.

 

Yuuri looked the door. The door looked back at him. He could easily poke around a bit, and then return to cramming. Pitchit wouldn’t miss him. With new resolve, Yuuri began walking, rubbing his forehead gingerly as he went. The waltz led him on. Yuuri broke into a run, soles squeaking. Within minutes, Yuuri saw a lone stranger in a chasm of instruments, hands flying over the keys of a piano.  

 

The musician looked up from the orchestra pit. His hands kept moving. “Well, what enterprising soul do we have here? Did you enjoy the music?”

 

“Yes!” Yuuri blurted out. “I love that song.”

 

The musician, a boy with tanned skin and coffee-colored hair, smiled. “I do too.”

 

“I’m s-sorry,” Yuuri flushed. “I’m Yuuri Katsuki. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

 

The other boy grinned wider. “It’s no big. I’m Leo, Leo de la Iglesia.”

 

“This is…” Yuuri couldn’t find the words. After however many words, the opera was still stunning. Aged velvet and stout pews lined the opera, stretching back further than the light allowed. Above them must be the stage. Yuuri ached to step on those floorboards. “Are we allowed in here? How did you find this place?”

 

“I’m not sure about being allowed here, but myself and a couple other people do sneak here,” Leo said. “So I guess you’ve found our secret gathering place.”

 

Yuuri took a breath. “May I come here too?”

 

“All lovers of culture welcome!”

 

“May I dance?”

 

“Go for it!”

 

Leo gestured towards a side door. Breathlessly, Yuuri twisted the knob and ran up stairs, bursting through to find a stage, meticulously clean.

 

“Oh,” Yuuri exhaled.

 

Piano again.

 

Yuuri shakily discarded his wet sneakers and coat. Took off his backpack and pulled out his shoes. Put them on. His face felt numb. Yuuri drifted eager fingers across the floorboard. With a few bounces and stretches to warm up, Yuuri was ready.

 

Leo was getting into the music. Yuuri straightened and assumed fifth position again. Leapt. Landed. Spun, one leg straight out. Wobbled a bit, but it didn’t matter. He was a snowflake, ephemeral like the dust notes glinting in the rafters. Leapt. Spun more.

 

“Not good enough,” the dust notes said.

 

Yuuri’s frame collapsed. “W-What?”

 

A figure peeled itself from the shadows. The dust revealed themselves to be floppy silver hair.

  
“I said,” the young man repeated. “You’re not good enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments much appreciated!


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